


Detour

by codename



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, Road Trip, rest in peace to this never getting opened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21891640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codename/pseuds/codename
Summary: A long road away, their secrets will be found out.
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Minatozaki Sana
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Detour

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy the faux married couple

No, Sana, is by far, not perfect.

The headmistress had probably asked her, what?—three or four times during the pre-entrance exams if she was accompanied by an adult, to which she pointed out the window like the final ghost from _A Christmas Carol._ (To be fair, similarities aside, that was the direction of a graveyard near her house that she visits every morning.) Classified orphan by then, but the classified outcast title was mandatory too, and just sort—stuck, with the whole sob story everyone plastered onto her. (You had no parents, basically no one.) The headmistress takes ultimate empathy for her, even dubbing the students as her ‘basically sisters’ and the professors at the school as her ‘makeshift parents’, and Sana doesn’t take it offensively, but doesn’t take it warmly. Doesn’t really want to think about it, really.

Sana even dropped her high ponytail look for the dress code of the school. Two distinct icons of what they thought were your boarding school ideals; pigtails or your hair let down modestly. Hair cut _modestly_ . Skirt at a suitable and _modest_ length. All the rules she followed and got praised for, ultimately felt like nothing at all. These moderately important rules didn’t contribute to how everyone saw her— _spoke_ about her.

Not to mention, Sana’s a good listener for someone who chooses to block everyone out. Being somewhat talkative aside, she listens very well. One of the girls in her class commented on it too, but she supposes that’s one of many moments where she just blanks out and thinks for a moment. Maybe it’s a faux sense of sincerity on Sana’s part, regardless, she’s still very considerate. Maybe too much for her own good, that even she’s scared of being too much. You know what they say, at least, that the apple never falls far from the tree. 

It makes for a good conversation—her explaining the whole tragedy of her parents. Not that Sana doesn’t talk a whole lot nowadays anyway, but she’s always making do with the people around her, if growing up meant living your life in a school in the middle of what seems like nowhere, and where your parents admitted you to before they died, then so be it. There was a small inkling of doubt that shrouded Sana whenever she was forced to have interaction, but then again, she was always bubbly, putting on a smile so genuine, no one bothered to question it.

It takes little effort to not be noticed, but being Sana, it was the hardest thing possible. It was an unshakeable thought that Sana would have to, eventually, explain why she went out of school grounds every Sunday morning, with a bunch of red roses she picked from the front garden (she’s lucky the school groundskeeper's lacking), when one, maybe two girls always noticed her going.

She’d slip into these unbearable pink slippers, as to minimise the clicks of her heels on the concrete outside, and the marble of the hallways. The door creaked every time, and no amount of slow edging open of the door could stop it. It instills a bit of rebel in her, not that she would ever label herself such a thing, but it was something that she found some sort of entertainment in.

It’s Sunday morning again, when she graduates. Last week, the gardener actually managed to replace the roses Sana kept ‘borrowing’ and she hasn’t been back to take one since. Instead, thanks to the common room with an outlandishly obscene amount of vases, she steals the lilies on the right of the bookcase, where no one ever bothers to go. They’d make do, her mother’s second favourite flower was a lily.

Today was supposed to be her freedom. Her life had been planned like a holiday schedule—she’d go live with her grandparents after this and try and get accustomed to being the face of a family that has nothing to be proud of other than their meaningless wealth. Sometimes she’s thankful she can get anyway from this place, but she’s going to end up another hell. That’s always the case.

She says a little prayer for lack of any other form of hope, says she’s sorry repeatedly under her breath, like a mantra. She lays the flowers down even though the undertaker that passes by all the time picks them up and throws them away in a compost pile. It used to bother her, so she’d sneak back at night since the roses—now lilies— would wilt so quick, and if they were to, they would wilt on her parents’ graves.

That early morning, however, someone decides to greet her. She was dressed in a black robe too, ready for her own graduation, so she figured it was just some girl in her year getting some fresh air before getting the hell out of this place for good. This girl wouldn’t care about where she’d been, why she looks like a sad mess, and most importantly, why Sana’s wearing pink slippers outside. 

When Sana approaches, she’s sorely mistaken. 

They exchange glances, albeit brief, and Sana makes the second mistake of attempting to brush right past her.

“Hey,” her voice is somewhat calm, concerned, “where have you been?”

Sana opts for the first thing she thinks of, to say absolutely nothing and release herself from the grasp of this total stranger, or really, she opts for the kindest, nicest thing to do.

“Nowhere,” Sana says bluntly. She didn’t want a response, but when the girl lets go of her, there’s a touch of annoyance that builds when she rubs her arm. (It didn’t hurt, she just wanted to get the message across that she is, indeed, as dramatic as they can get.) “I don’t think it matters anyway—”

Nayeon interjects, “I see you every morning, the same day.”

Sana’s well aware that a girl she’s barely ever seen before asking her such a personal question is a sign of danger. She is well aware that the sight of a rich, pretty girl, standing near the exit of a school, without a single explanation on why she knows she goes out every Sunday morning has far more authority than she does in this situation. She is well aware that she is downright staring.

She’s aware of all of this, and yet she couldn’t seem to stop doing any of it.

Sana only knew of her name because of the big nametag that covered the majority of the badge of the school, and it read ‘IM NA-YEON’, and a small indication that she was a senior. Accompanied with useless writing that probably was the school’s motto. Im Nayeon— stranger, a pretty unusual stalker, dubbed by Sana. Maybe because she one, smelled amazing for a gal living in the countryside, and two, had hair way against the rules, that she had one of those families that manipulated that sort of stuff, and to be honest, Sana wouldn’t be surprised if Nayeon was the same.

Girls like her put their business where it wasn’t needed.

Sana snaps out of it, but Nayeon raises a brow.

“Look, you don’t wanna catch breakfast? I think they have scrambled eggs? Eggs, you probably like them, right?” Sana says more calmly, repeating it just enough so Nayeon can hear, though that wasn’t exactly her intention.

“Sunny-side up, actually.” Nayeon smiles, but Sana’s lack of an expression makes her cough nervously. Nayeon leans in, close enough to whisper, “I figured something is bothering you—I know it’s graduation but, I guess this is the extent of my curiosity.” 

“Oh, so you _figured,_ and you _figured_ it was appropriate _,_ ” Sana pulls a face that belittles the conversation entirely, “I figure a stranger should know more about me than my friends do.”

Nayeon rolls her eyes, “I’m the stranger? You really don’t think everyone else sees _you_ as a stranger?”

(Well, yeah, because you _really_ don’t have any friends, Sana. Everyone looked at her like they just arrived on the planet, like a manufactured robot designed to do as everyone says. She had always lied about not being lonely. It was sort of normal. Maybe she enjoyed it, maybe she prefers it, but it wasn’t ever okay.)

Her patience wasn’t dwindling. In fact, she had so much patience, but Nayeon telling it to her straight, when everyone around had been giving her a downplay of words all these years, it struck. Hard.

“Speaking of not being rude,” Sana gestures past Nayeon’s arm, waving for her to move out the way.

Nayeon exhales, letting her arms rise in mock defeat, letting Sana stumble through the door. Nayeon lets herself lean against the doorframe, still looking at her with the same expression from when she first noticed her existence. Somehow, it looked smooth and self-assured, rather than arrogant and aloof. Sana appreciates it, but the thought still lingers that Nayeon might as well tell on her.

It was a childish thing to imagine toddler behaviour being used against her when she's an adult now, but there’s been surprises that have shocked her more than if that were to happen.

Someone knows now—that she’s not perfect, at all.

Then again, has Sana ever been perfect? She never considers it, and she probably never will. It’s some sort of complex she has. She doesn’t feel good, not even after she wakes up from a mildly satisfying sleep, which is the best she gets. Doesn’t feel good when she finds herself floating in the middle of the school’s pool (where she’s ushered out every Friday evening by the swimming team). Not even when she’s sitting outside, nothing seems to be okay. Everytime she holds her mother’s necklace in her hands, and cries for a good two minutes before walking out that door to Maths with an expression that tells otherwise—that she wasn’t just bawling her eyes out moments ago.

Sana is strong, but not always. 

That day, Sana finds herself sitting next to Nayeon for the assembly. She assumes it’s because they’re some of the top students of the school, or Nayeon had specifically requested to sit next to her and make her day more of a living hell than it already was. Sana chooses to believe the latter, because she’s not sure Nayeon’s as smart as she looks.

It drones on for thirty minutes until Sana and Nayeon are called up simultaneously, Sana almost repealing any thought of saying “sorry for acting rude” for her behaviour earlier (and that’s just the way she is, she’ll most likely do it anyway). 

There’s a bunch of cheers, Sana doesn’t say a speech—headmistress doesn’t force her to either, they know her too well than to push her limits. She’s not sure what happened after, during or before. All her mind can spew out is the thought and image of Nayeon. 

-

_(Again, it’s Nayeon. N-A-Y-E-O-N. Nayeon:_ _the_ _easy-going, good-natured personality, the one meeting and mixing easily._ _You remember exactly what she smells like—the girl puts on too much perfume for the countryside anyway. She smells exactly like cavity-inducing cherry-flavoured candy and saccharine strawberries handpicked from, I dunno, the time you went to Italy seemed like the place to do orchard stuff._

_You wouldn’t dare tell her that, you practically shoved her off the first meeting. Which is your fault, entirely. Wouldn’t blame you, really. Besides, Nayeon probably wants nothing to do with you anymore, and so should you. You don’t want anything to do with Nayeon either. That’s the way it should be._

_Or not._

_Forget it. Check your messages._ )

**???**

**Hey! Is this Minatozaki Sana?**

**Me**

**Depends who’s talking.**

**???**

**Im Nayeon, I asked someone for your number.**

Sana processes it for a second. There’s only one person that has her phone number, and it’s the receptionist and her large cupboard of personal files. Then, there’s a few assorted swear words that are said under her breath before she lets the realisation kick in. She, for one, was not about to have a conversation with the girl she had hoped never to interact with again, and two, she replies to Nayeon’s message anyway, which she _swears_ was on impulse.

**Me**

**Okay.**

**???**

**You’re not weirded out or anything?**

**I’d just like to talk.**

**If that’s okay with you.**

**???**

**It’s totally fine if you don’t.**

**???**

**No hard feelings.**

**???**

**I mean, it’s all up to you.**

Sana sighs, heavily.

**Me**

**What do you want?**

**_You changed ??? to Im Nayeon_ **

**Im Nayeon**

**Common room, downstairs!**

**Me**

**(thumbs up emoji)**

Sana barely manages to keep her eyes open. 

There’s no reason for here to be meeting Nayeon other than to completely appease herself. It’s been bugging her all day—the reason why Nayeon takes an interest in her, the reason why Nayeon is so nice to her when everyone else isn’t. Maybe for once, it doesn’t make sense to her, and she feels the urge to not let it go.

When the door slides open with a creak, Sana flashes the flashlight directly in Nayeon’s face. She turns on the light, placing the flashlight into her pyjama pocket, unsurprised when she sees Nayeon wince.

“Do you always hide in the dark?” Sana instigates, closing the door behind her, “I don’t think it’s a very attractive thing to do.”

Nayeon is confused momentarily as she rubs her eyes to stay somewhat awake, sitting up from her slouched position on the couch. “What?—are you saying I’m hot in the dark?”

“Hardly. I’m saying it doesn’t make you look like any less of a stalker than you were before.”

“I’m _not_ a stalker,” Nayeon immediately replies, “My room has the window overseeing the courtyard—”

“How _privileged_ ,” Sana interrupts.

“—and _you’re_ not exactly the quietest door opener.” Nayeon continues.

Sana falters, she’s not sure what to say other than to have a prolonged stare into Nayeon’s eyes, and it suggests more than Sana thinks it to be an embarrassment. 

Sana relents. “I suppose you know, then.”

“As much as I hate to admit everyone knows your whole life story by now, yes—I do. And I’m sorry that it’s such an itching part of your life.”

“Itching? _Right_ .” Sana says, her cheeks raised, upper lips curled, lip corners drawn down and back so her eyes narrowly close, and judging from the guttural scoff Sana elicited before disgustedly suggesting she is, in fact, _not in the least bit_ bothered. Nayeon feels guilty.

“Well, they don’t let people stay here after graduation.”

“Are you always this nosy?”

Nayeon shakes her head.

“Fine. Staying with my grandparents.”

“That’s sweet, I almost bought it,” Nayeon folds her arms, her brow raising in the thought. Sana sees it as a habit, she’s sure Nayeon does it frequently. “Every girl in the school hates—this school. If you had the money you would’ve already left.”

Spilling everything to Nayeon—the one she barely knows anything about—is the last thing she wanted to do, but Nayeon, her existence, her whole being and mannerisms, makes it all that bit tougher. Sana collects her thoughts before responding. She’s in the right mind to have this vase to the left of her, have a nice introduction to Nayeon’s right temple, but she doesn’t, it’s just not who she is.

“It’s the truth. What about you? You’re not exactly so different.”

“Well, disregarding the school myth everyone hates it here, I don’t find it so bad,” Nayeon admits, declaring it half-heartedly as Sana stares her down.

“The lovely courtyard must be a fantastic view to wake up to.”

“You act like everyone else's view is a brick wall.”

Sana stays silent, only crosses her arms.

“You’re being serious?” Nayeon shakes her head. “That’s besides the point—I can help you.”

“What? Are you offering to buy me a Porsche?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Nayeon defends herself, but Sana knows better, “I’m not like every rich snob you’ve probably met.”

“Mhm. If you have money and you’re still here, don’t ask _me_ about it.” Sana’s hands wrap around the door’s handle, before she hears Nayeon stand up in haste. 

“You’re pretty stubborn, do you know that?”

Sana says nothing, the only sound is the door handle screeching when she turns it halfway.

Nayeon steps closer. “Not gonna ask for my lunch money?”

She sets herself on the arm of the common room couch towards the end, swinging her legs like a kid sat atop of monkey bars. 

Sana smiles, though Nayeon can’t see. “Funny. I’ll be going now.”

Sana turns the handle all the way this time, her body halfway through the door when Nayeon throws a pencil at her head. Sana grunts, a breathy exhale when she turns around, looking more exasperated than Nayeon had intended.

There’s a sigh, and a depleted ‘huff’ when Nayeon sits back down having seen Sana’s face and not her back leaving for the door already. Though, she had half a mind to go and do that for about ten minutes. Sana just has a lot of patience. 

“Sorry I—just stay—hear me out.”

Nayeon’s face screams no ill-intent. Sana breathes in again, contemplating whether or not to just leave like the other two times, or to give Nayeon a chance on whatever pitch she has to throw, and she lets Nayeon do exactly that, because she’s sure she’s never going to live this one out. Sana nods, encouraging her.

“What if I had something you wanted?”

“What could I possibly want from you? You did insult me two times in a row and then asked me to stay.”

“But you _did_ stay.”

“For lack of anything better to do, I did,” Sana crosses her arms, rolling her eyes enough so the girl in front of her can definitely see, “and don’t try to use _this_ against me. It’s practically blackmail.”

“I’m not a criminal, I’m not a mind-reader either, but you do want to leave, don’t you?”

“If I have to leave, I’ll leave on my own.” Sana tries her best to sound confident, but something crumbled against Nayeon's gaze.

“Yeah, with what? _Your_ legs? The nearest town isn’t for miles.”

“Just because I don’t live in a gym doesn’t mean my legs won’t endure a few miles walking. And I’m not about to go to jail for years for stealing a car.”

Nayeon gives Sana a strange look, “Nuh-uh.”

“What?”

“I don’t think you go to jail for that long for stealing a car. At least, not if they don’t find out.” Nayeon smiles, an idiotic lopsided smile that rubs Sana the wrong way. Nayeon probably thinks being a smartass is a good thing, but Sana is irked beyond belief.

“I’d go to jail for first degree murder first,” Sana finishes, a finality in her tone. Sana’s out of the room when Nayeon begins to speak up, more serious than before.

“Look—I’ll be honest now,” Nayeon stands up, making Sana come back inside the room before she closes the door. Sana leans against it. 

“There’s an overwhelming need for me to — _care_ about you,” Nayeon inches closer, her hands waving to find the right words, an uncertainty in her eyes that exhumes genuinity yet fear all at once. “Which sounds really stupid, doesn’t it?”

“Stupid is an understatement,” Sana wants to leave, but there’s something about Nayeon she can’t quite figure out. “I don’t even know you.”

“And I barely know you either,” Nayeon laughs, shrugging. “I was planning on leaving this hell-hole anyway. Consider it a free Uber ride.”

Sana’s not sure how many, but this is breaking pretty much all of the rules she’d abided by during her time. Nayeon’s been here, for what? the same time as her, and not once has she blinked an eye and seen her, which is why she wouldn’t have recognised Nayeon at first glance.

There’s something comforting about Nayeon (also extremely annoying), but she can’t pinpoint what.

Rule number one, is to never trust a stranger. (Which currently, is totally irrelevant.)

“There’s a car outside. My mum gave it to me before I went here, said when the time was right to go and visit me. It’s been here for years.” Nayeon jingles car keys in front her.

Sana imagines it, right then and there.

Imagines the fire, the blood, the cries. She can still see everyone scrambling to get out, and her eyes lock particularly on the driver’s seat. She can’t see much, the smoke is too thick and the window is smashed well enough it’s too cracked to see anything outside. There’s sirens, and then, Nayeon’s clicking—?

No— this is what she imagines. 

Imagines leaving the place for good, going somewhere out of her comfort zone. It scares her all the time, and she wishes it would stop. She’d wake up somewhere different and all these years would be a really, really horrible nightmare.

Her hands tremble uncontrollably, her face twitches subtly but it’s there, and it’s bugging the _hell_ out of her. She feels her eyes well up, more than she could hold back, and there’s a sharp exhale that leaves Sana panting.

(Never really liked the thought of change, and it’s what scared her the most.)

Nayeon takes her hand, and Sana stops. But she slips away once she realises.

“Don’t,” Sana catches her breath, stepping back. “I can’t believe that happened in front of you, of all people.”

“What? It’s a bad thing I witnessed you panting and scrambling for breath for a good thirty seconds, because if not for me, you’d be on the floor,” Nayeon gives a visual representation, which triggers Sana to shut her the hell up. (She laughs, though that’s not to be mentioned.)

“Thank you for at least not asking why.”

“I get it, don’t worry.” Nayeon reassures her, a hand finding itself patting Sana’s back, and Sana concedes, finally letting her. It wasn’t normal, it didn’t _feel_ normal, but comfort is the thing she needed the most right now. And she’s not totally sure Nayeon does get it, but it was something easily let off.

Sana mistook her for a dumb girl, and that was her third mistake. “But really, don’t ever touch me again.”

Nayeon’s face lights up.

“You better not murder me when I get into that car.”

She shakes her head, and most would opt for a nice hug at such a joyous occasion, but the two shake hands, and that was enough for them. It was an agreement, nothing more, to get Sana where she needed to be and Nayeon could have peace of mind.

(Being an only child, being _just_ a child; Sana often wondered what it felt like, to be loved, to know how to socialise, to know how to be normal, go into the city and live like a teenager. Maybe Nayeon could show her, but she’d probably just laugh.)

“So, what? Are we like business partners? I drive and you pay for fuel kind of thing…”

Nayeon’s speech drawls on for the entirety of the journey back to their rooms. Sana is not annoyed, but she tolerates it at this point. There was something about Nayeon that made her trust her, even if they had only properly talked recently, and it made her the most curious she had ever been.

When they reach the staircase that splits the levels where their dorms are, Nayeon says wishes her a great night. Sana doesn’t say it back, but she smiles.

-

Later that evening, per a distressed text from Sana, there’s an awkward walk back up the stairs so Nayeon could help Sana pack whatever little things she had to bring along. Going at night was much better than risking the patrolling teachers that wake up at blasphemous times. Sana never really was the one to be attached to items, so it was the necessities; a toothbrush, spare clothes. She was partly at fault for the silence, she had absolutely zero clue why she had agreed to go with Nayeon. Then again, Nayeon is a mystery in itself, and seeing Nayeon makes her do things she wouldn’t normally do.

Nayeon, she’s the textbook definition of rich. Her father, a businessman, her mother, a doctor. Her childhood was spent in cities. Her father travelled constantly, which meant moving was the norm, and Nayeon never spent enough time with people her own age. Some things happened, she was sent here, her parents never kept in contact until suddenly on Nayeon’s eighteenth birthday, she found herself being sent a credit-card with an obscene amount of money on.

_‘Happy 18th. Don’t come home.’_

That was a few months ago. Nayeon rarely talks about it, and probably never will.

She finds Sana interesting, and there’s something about her that reminds her of herself.

Nayeon stands quietly at the door for the duration of Sana panickedly choosing between what colour blanket to choose. She didn’t need to help, and from the past day they’ve been together she was sure Sana didn’t need any help if she didn’t ask for any.

Nayeon gets ready to leave when she hears Sana zipping up, but there’s a voice that interrupts instead.

“Hey,” Sana begins, heaviness in her tone, “do you mind if we...?” The clock read almost midnight, and from her pink slippers, Nayeon probably knew.

She nods instantly when she follows Sana’s eyes, her lips tuning out of acknowledgment. She pursues, grabbing Sana’s bag for her.

“Do you want to leave now? We can be on the road, watch when the sun’s rising.”

“That’d be nice.”

-

“You expect me to ride in that thing?” Sana kicks the side of the frame, something rattling in the trunk and other places that are questionable.

Nayeon rushes over, shoving Sana to the side when her dent joins a million others. “What’s wrong with you? Do you want to get caught?”

She takes a moment to register whether or not those flurry of questions were genuine, looking back and forth between Nayeon and the car. She flicks the mirror, the metal hanging on by a piece of wire she’s sure Nayeon put there herself. Before Sana begins to speak, the mirror breaks off.

“My point is, this is a rust bucket. My parents were poorer than yours, but we could afford a car that didn't look like _this_ ,” Sana angrily whispers, though it sounds less threatening than she thought it would.

Nayeon leans against the door of the car, trying to inconspicuously shove it back into place, “First of all, I may have failed to mention this is barely passable for a car.”

“Shocker, rich girl.” 

“I’m not— whatever—and _second of all,_ at least it works perfectly fine,” Nayeon reaches in to turn the ignition, the whirr of the car sounding more like a jammed factory machine than an engine that actually works, which only sets Sana up for another one of her sort-of justified insults.

“Yeah, perfectly shit.”

Sana adds onto the fire, knowing Nayeon would probably take the brunt of it anyway. She lets herself into the car, Nayeon following suit when a scathing glare is shot into her direction, prompting her to smack the mirror back into place and get herself in the driver's seat.

Nayeon’s not the best driver, and considering Sana chose to sit at the back instead of the passenger’s seat gave Nayeon a free pass to not explaining why the car didn’t exactly have ‘ _well-functioning_ brakes’ and more of a ‘hit it repeatedly, hard, in succession and hope for the best brakes’. (Before they managed to noisily back out of the back garden, Nayeon probably knocked over a few plant pots that will need explaining if she ever decides to come back here, which is unlikely, so a few of them _may_ be on purpose.)

A few minutes into the drive felt like forever. It had started with a sorry attempt of directions, and ended with Sana airdropping directions to where they were supposed to be. Granted, Sana was just lazy and verbally trying to explain to Nayeon was akin to educating a kindergartener. 

“Can you slow down? You drive like a maniac.” Sana dramatically clings to her seat, one hand off of her bag which she had been hugging for the past ten minutes.

“I’m driving so slow I can count all the trees passing by,” Nayeon responds, "We're going slower than someone walking.”

Sana ignores her, only rolls her eyes enough for Nayeon to see in the mirror. Sana prompts her to pull over to the gate of the cemetery on the right. The tires screech, Sana isn’t surprised, and she lets herself out of the car before it _probably_ falls apart right there and then. The hawaiian lady Nayeon has tied to the inside mirror is still moving, and Sana’s convinced this car is on it’s last thread.

Nayeon bravely leans against the hood of her car, and to Sana’s surprise, not in pyjamas.

“Are you—how the _hell_ are you dressed?!”

Nayeon kept her smile and mouth in a long, straight line, her hair naturally a dark brown, is neatly tied back to reveal more of her features that Sana couldn’t get a glimpse of when it was down. Nayeon dressed as if she was homeless for someone who could afford far better, and Sana took note of it; a huge white shirt and tracksuit pants, with a lazily chosen pair of slippers Nayeon probably chose on her way out. And as for Sana… she was still in her pyjamas. In her defense, there was a tight margin for such a spontaneous trip.

Nayeon shrugs, genuinely confused. “I figured getting changed before going a fun adventure was a universal thing.”

“You were staring at me while I was packing, how could I have gotten dressed?” Sana mumbles to herself, Nayeon uninvitedly picking herself up and following suit when Sana slides through the slightly dented and open gate bars as if it was nothing. It was almost pitch black, but it was like Sana knew the way without even looking down. 

It was dirty, and definitely a bad choice for Nayeon to be treading on uneven ground with a tumultuous amount of damp mud and nettles poking out the sides of stones. Nayeon however, had always been curious of Sana’s life, and if it meant having muddy feet and stinging legs, then (if she had a choice, no way in hell) she had to.

She stumbles over the untamed vines, trying to make her way past the large oak tree in the way, and the eventual mini-swamp after that. Nayeon makes an attempt to shout, “How far left?”

“Not far for you,” Sana shouts back, knowing full well that she was lying, kneeling down in an innocent fashion before Nayeon could even see any limb or body part in the distance.

“I’m here,” Sana says softer than before, tracing her fingers against the carved out names. She places the flower down, almost hurriedly, leaving no time to plant it as if it was the last time she’d ever say goodbye. Because, in truth, it had never felt like that for her. 

She places herself next to it, not minding if the pyjamas she’s in gets muddy, or the dampness of it seeps right through the cheap silk. She plays with the mud for a moment, letting the moonlight be the only source of light for her when she buries the flower, leaving only the petals on the surface.

She coughs, getting the nerves out of her throat before speaking.

“This is crazy. I’ve never missed a day.” Sana looks above her, a twitchy smile is all she manages. “Take it as me becoming an adult. I know Dad would disagree.”

She had never learned to keep her sniffling quiet, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when Nayeon had eventually found her way and ducked quickly behind a bush before Sana noticed her mid-cry. She had made it to the spot where Sana was quicker than she had imagined, though she admits she would’ve kept on going if she didn’t hear Sana talking to herself.

Nayeon’s hand finds itself glued to her mouth, her breathing stopped and her eyes barely peeking over to see Sana wiping her tears away.

Sana looks up one last time before standing up. She naturally let her tears fall, the long sleeves of her pyjamas serving as the only tissues on hand. 

“I’ll see you sooner than you think.” Sana says last.

There’s a few hicks and sobs before she turns, any sign of her crying was now non-existent. An affectionate frown is on her face when Nayeon sees her face barely lit from the moon. Nayeon never expected this side of Sana, and it all made sense to her when Sana came back from here, to school, looking happier than ever. 

The pieces connected, but Nayeon couldn’t help but feel intrusive, she suppressed the urge to go and tell her she heard everything, and it became increasingly easier not to say a single thing, thanks to Sana, who made it extremely impossible not to do.

Fortune never came much for Nayeon, and when it did, it came down handsomely. Though, this was not one of those moments. Sana bumps into Nayeon—who is suddenly alarmed when Sana begins to walk in her general direction—appearing from snapping a twig on the floor.

( _Crap._ )

“I’m sor-!”

“For the love—!”

A loud ‘ugh’ is heard in unison, Nayeon whacking off the mud Sana kicked onto her accidentally, and Sana swiping the mud towards Nayeon from when she backed away having walked into her head-first. (If you were a witness to this sight, you’d sense at any moment they’d be clawing at each other. But they had more self-restraint than their tempers did.)

“Not a stalker, right? _”_ Sana seethes, groaning at the person in question before storming off in one direction, Nayeon trailing behind her. Throughout the whole walk back, Nayeon is intensely apologising to what was practically a brick wall.

Nayeon knows now, there's a long road ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> pretty much


End file.
